


A Soldier's Death

by theorchidhorror



Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 02:08:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/907621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theorchidhorror/pseuds/theorchidhorror
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Luteces attend the funeral of an old acquaintance, to pay their respects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Soldier's Death

It was a curious thing, the fate of the Luteces.

Though Booker DeWitt and the girl had stopped Comstock and- effectively, erased the entire existence of Columbia from the universes, they were not dead. Rosalind theorized this was because they were not _truly_ alive for DeWitt’s journey in the first place, not in the traditional sense anyway. She speculated that, because the pair existed scattered amongst the universes, they were- in a way, immune to the ripple effect of the erasure of Columbia; she often postulated that it was because the two were “hidden between the walls of the universe”. And though Robert thought it was a tad melodramatic of her to phrase the phenomenon thusly, he quite agreed.

Besides, it’s not like he much minded _why_ the two survived the erasure- all that mattered was that they did. The Luteces were free to roam the cosmos- popping into a world wherever and whenever they pleased, and that suited them marvelously. They could be anywhere and everywhere at once; witness events so grand that they would be recounted and retold for generations and events so mundane and ordinary that they may as well have never happened.

But of all the events in all the worlds, there was one constant in particular that the Luteces never missed.

~

There was already a small gathering at the cemetery when they arrived- a respectable amount, indicative of someone who had lived their life plainly but with a decent amount of friends and acquaintances. This was a small comfort to them; in some worlds he had been unable to conquer his demons and, in more than a couple instances, the Luteces had been the only guests in attendance.

Robert and Rosalind always kept to themselves when they attended DeWitt’s funeral- there was no need to draw attention to themselves after all, not when they merely intended to pay their respects to the man. But this funeral was different- more personal, than the countless others they’d attended. This was Robert’s world of origin, and the Booker DeWitt that lie buried in the ground was one they knew personally. This was the Booker DeWitt who had fought through Columbia, defying a Prophet and his people in a desperate attempt to reclaim his daughter. The Booker DeWitt who, through sheer willpower, fought off the uprising of the Vox Populi, and erased Columbia’s very existence (Admittedly, Rosalind was still a little cross about the last part). And true, he wouldn’t have accomplished much at all without the girl’s or their- for that matter, help, but DeWitt was still most definitely a hero.

It was mid-August now, and while normally the air would be hot and thick with humidity, the day was overcast and cool- gloomy, as if the Earth itself was mourning the loss of a close friend. The twins stood, dutifully, beneath a large oak, for the duration of the event; far enough from the group to refrain from attracting attention, but close enough to clearly make out the sermon that was being given in reference to DeWitt. Robert briefly exchanged a meaningful look with his sister and the two silently appreciated the irony of the situation.

Nearly an hour later, the formalities had ended and the crowd had mostly dispersed. Still, the Luteces remained. It was not common practice for Robert and Rosalind to stay after DeWitt’s funeral, more often than not- they were gone before the others even had a chance to notice their presence. But of course, today was a day for breaking precedents, and they still had one matter to attend to here.

She still looked very much the same- older certainly, with faint lines setting into her face that spoke of a lifetime of experiences, but she was still very much the girl who had been the Lamb of Columbia. Her dress was black and appropriate for the event, but still incredibly stylish- and Rosalind found it curious that the girl’s taste for fashion appeared to be a universal constant.

She was crouched low, wiping the eyes of a girl who bore a striking resemblance to her with the edge of her sleeve when the Luteces approached.

“Elizabeth?”

Rosalind leaned into Robert, her voice a low murmur. “No, it’s _Anna_ here, dear brother.”

“Ah, of course. My mistake.” He nodded once- his voice matching hers in volume, then straightened his back and spoke again, loud enough for Anna to hear. “Miss DeWitt?”

“I haven’t been called DeWitt in several years.”  The young woman addressed the Luteces without facing them, then whispered something to the child, who then took off without a word; Anna stood and watched her run off, turning to face the Luteces only after she was satisfied that the child had reached its destination safely. She scanned their faces, confusion apparent, as she failed to find any familiarity with the two. “I’m sorry, do I know you? D- did you know my father?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” Rosalind spoke up, nodding slightly.

“We were… associates of his.”

Anna tucked a stray strand of her long brown hair behind her ear and offered the two a small, thin smile; the news that they were associates of her late father obviously didn’t sit well with her. “Oh, well… I appreciate that you made an effort to be here. Please excuse me.“ She turned to go, and Rosalind noted the stiff, uncomfortable way with which she did so. If she had to wager a guess, Lutece supposed that past interactions with her father’s associates had not gone very well. Perhaps Anna was right to be cautious around them.

“We wished simply to pay our respects and convey a message to you.” Rosalind raised her voice slightly and spoke to the back of Anna’s head, not caring for the fact that Dewitt was in the process of walking away from them.  Anna continued, apparently uninterested in whatever Rosalind had to say.

“Your father was a great man, Miss DeWitt.”

It was Robert who spoke then, his voice having taken on that soft, soothing quality with which he had often spoken to Rosalind with in those early days- when Columbia was still budding and the pressure of Comstock’s ambition was rapidly becoming a threat to her sanity. Rosalind glanced from her brother to Anna, curious to see if his voice had the same effect on her, and found that the girl had all but stopped dead in her tracks. Anna turned as she reached up to wipe away a stubborn tear that was running down her cheek and Rosalind felt comfortable with continuing where her brother had left off.

“Dewitt was- for lack of a better word, a hero to us all.”

To the Luteces’ surprise, she laughed then, though Robert would attest that it had been more of a scoff. “You said you knew my father? Then you know that could never have been him. He was _barely_ a father to me- how could he have been anything even remotely resembling a hero?”

Robert exchanged a look with his sister and continued, almost as if Anna hadn’t spoken at all. His voice maintained that soft, soothing- nearly hypnotic quality to it that Rosalind adored so much.

“He accomplished great things in your name- for your sake. Things the world will never know-”

“’ _Would’_ never know.” Rosalind interjected. Their constant bickering over semantics and tenses transcended universes; she’d be remiss if she missed the opportunity to correct him. Robert pursed his lips into a straight line, in the way he often did when he was concealing a smile.  

“I’m fairly certain it’s ‘ _will’_.”

Rosalind cast a look at her brother that stated clearly that they’d settle the matter later and turned her attention again to Anna, who was blinking rapidly in confusion at them.

“No matter what the world or his actions would have you believe, Booker Dewitt was a rather extraordinary man.”

Anna nodded hesitantly, as if unsure if the act would placate the two and murmured a low ‘thank you’.  A joyful squealing came from behind her suddenly and Anna turned to see the smiling face of her daughter, rushing towards her with her arms wide open. Anna scooped the child up, making a mental note to talk to her husband about keeping a proper eye on the girl, and turned back to face… nothing. The two, nearly identical figures who had just stood before her were gone, seeming to have disappeared into thin air. The child squirmed excitedly in Anna’s arms, twisting until she was face to face with her mother.

“Where’d those two people go, mama?”

Anna scanned the cemetery for a trace of the two, but they were nowhere to be found. Something about their disappearance struck her as unnatural and yet… familiar somehow, though she couldn’t quite say why. “I don’t know.”

“Oh…” The child frowned. “Who were they? What’d they want?”

Anna looked down at her daughter with a faint smile and brushed a piece of dark chestnut hair from her face. She couldn’t say for sure if the two had been telling the truth when they said they were associates of her father- and in fact, she wasn’t sure if she _wanted_ to know the truth about how they knew him. All Anna knew was that she trusted them- she had never met the two before and her experience with Booker contradicted them, but she wholeheartedly believed that they had spoken the truth.

“Just… friends of your grandfather. They only wanted to pay their respects.”


End file.
